


Dragon's Paw

by The_GM



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Dragon Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Night Furies (How to Train Your Dragon), Protective Toothless (How to Train Your Dragon), Wishes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:19:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_GM/pseuds/The_GM
Summary: Wishes are things we all want, until they go wrong.The dragon riders each get their lives wish granted to them, and in the process destroy the timeline that they lived in.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	1. Price of wisdom

Fishlegs woke up in a cold sweat. The dream he had, it was so real, yet terrifying. The rider had been exploring a new island around the Edge, and they found some sort of ancient temple. The twins ended up destroying the place, and in the process broke a pot that happened to contain an ancient spirit, said spirit then offered each of them a wish. He had eagerly wished for great knowledge, Snotlout wished to be the greatest warrior Berk had ever seen, Astrid wished to be the world’s greatest dragon rider (and then proceeded to apologize to Hiccup for the one-upmanship), and Hiccup himself had wished to understand Toothless and the dragons. The twins declined their wish, transitioning to their pseudo-intellectual and denouncing the whole concept of wishes, and how they only bring pain.  
And that left him here, with the craziest dream in the world, and safe back in his bed on the edge… wait. He looked around his room, while it was his room, he was in his house back on Berk. That was definitely odd, how did he get back to Berk? Had something happened to him? Was he injured and taken back to Berk to see Gothi? Was he somehow hypnotized again? If that was the case, he would have to apologize to Meatlug.  
His thoughts were interrupted with the signature whistle of a night fury. Hiccup must be out on a midnight flight again, but he could have sworn it sounded like there were two whistles. Shouts rang out as the blasts sounded and through his window he saw the old raid torches, which had since been converted into feeding stations, lifted and lit as dragons swarmed overhead. Fishlegs could only look out the window in awed horror seeing a sight straight out of his nightmares. The dragons were raiding again? How, was he still dreaming?  
“Fishlegs, what are ye doing? Get out here!” His father burst into his room and threw him a shield and warhammer off his wall. Fishlegs grabbed it in stunned silence and followed him outside of the house. It was just like the scenes he remembered from a few years back. But it couldn't be a memory, he never was a fighter in the raids, always on fire duty. And it was too vivid to be a dream, so what was it?  
A dragon, a gronckle specifically charged him. Fishlegs held up his shield in a block, using muscle memory he didn't know he had using strength he mysteriously developed. The gronckle rammed his shield full force, leaving it dazed but only fending Fishlegs a few inches backward. Fishlegs didn’t think as he made his next move, he swung his hammer down, knocking the dragon away from him, as well as some of its teeth from its mouth. Only a second after the adrenaline-fueled haze wore off did he realize what just happened. He fought a dragon and won. What was happening? In dragon training, he was at the very bottom, and after the dragon riders began, he had put very little time into combat training. What was going on?  
Fishlegs ran through the streets, watching man and dragon struggle. Fire was shot, bolas were thrown, and dragons fell from the sky. But there was a key difference between the raid of old and what he saw here. The dragons weren’t taking food. Well, some did, but by and large, they were going for building and people, doing as much damage as possible.  
But one familiar aspect he found was in the sky above, diving down in a dive-bombing strike was an unforgettable blue and gold nadder with the telltale figure of a person with an axe on its back. Said figure jumped off the dragons back, whistling and catching the attention of the surrounding dragons before she had signals (some of which he recognized for their training) before the dragons flew off again.  
Before she could mount up again though, she was charged by a Viking. He swung an axe at the rider, only for her to dodge under the strike before delivering a kick right to the family jewels. The Viking howled in pain as his knees buckled, and the rider took her axe and cut into the Viking neck, leaving the head hanging on only by a few shreds of skin.  
“ASTRID!” Fishlegs called, horrified at the sight in front of him. One of his best friends, cutting down a man in cold blood? She turned to his call, revealing underneath the hood she wore a mask that emulated the appearance of a dragon. She grabbed the axe of her former attacker and proceeded to throw it at Fishlegs. Time seemed to slow down, but Fishlegs was too stunned to move. He couldn’t understand what was happening, why was Astrid attacking the village? Where was Hiccup, why wasn’t he stopping this chaos after he fought so hard to end it once and for all. He could only watch in stunned silence as the axe flew spinning in the air. But his death didn't come, as a shield flying through the air knocking the axe off its trajectory. Fishlegs looked to the side to see Snotlout, sword at the ready with the twins backing him up, moving towards Astrid, his gaze with a grim determination and muscles tense and ready to strike. Astrid readied her axe, as Stormfly hissed and her tail spines perked up.  
No words were spoken, their looks said everything that needed saying. Snotlout signaled the twins, who charged Stormfly, while Snotlout and Astrid clashed, Snotlout fighting like an expert, fighting as Fishlegs had never witnessed. A swing of an axe was countered by a perry of a shield and followed up by a sword stab, while at the same time white-hot fire was dodged as maces were swung and spears prodded.  
“GUYS STOP!” Fishlegs screamed. He had enough, this was insane, seeing his friends trying to kill each other. And where was Hiccup? He should have stopped this, or not let it happen in the first place. The dueling humans took a minor pause, as Astrid let out a long shrill whistle and pointed at him. Then he heard it, two night fury whistles pierced the night as he saw the glow of plasma launch towards him, he held up his shield and tried to move back, but his shield had shattered and he was thrown backward to the ground by the force. He could hear Snotlout's worried yelling calling his name, but he could barely hear over the ringing in his ears. He tried to sit up, but a weight landed on top of him. He looked up to see a black as night dragon on top of him. The night fury before him was slightly smaller than Toothless was, and landing behind it was a near-identical dragon, though slightly larger.  
Fishlegs could only look up in fear at the emerald green eyes of the dragon as the sound of a blast built up from the dragon. Emerald green so familiar yet he couldn't place. But as he looked at the dragon, it hesitated, the blast flying from its mouth but missing his head, landing on the ground between his shoulder and neck, before flying off. Fishlegs laid still, as flashes of recognition ran through his mind. It was impossible, but the eyes, the mercy, the other dragon beside him. It was Hiccup. And suddenly everything became clear. Snotlout was the greatest fighter he had ever seen, Astrid was the only, and by extension, the best, dragon rider, and Hiccup was a dragon, now a native speaker at whatever method dragons communicated. All of their wishes had been granted, but what about him? Then it hit him, he knew what had happened, he knew that history had changed, that was his knowledge.  
Astrid remounted, escaping her duel, and rose into the air, the other dragons following her lead and abandoning the siege. Snotlout ran over to his side immediately after.  
“Fishlegs! Are you ok?” Snotlout asked with a level of concern that he wasn't used to from the extremely macho Viking. “Ruff, Tuff, go help put out the fires, and don’t go starting any more!.” And his commands came with a lot more authority, and the twins ran off, whether they followed up the order is a whole other debate. “What was going on there, you froze what happened. And that night fury, how did you survive?”  
Fishlegs hesitated, he had so many questions himself. “Snotlout what just happened. What happened to Astrid?”  
“Fishlegs…” he adopted a somber tone, “I guess you hit your head hard there, Astrid has been missing for years…”  
“But, but, she was right there! You were fighting her!”  
“Pff,” he let out a sigh, “I wish. Like back in the good old days, I would flirt with her, she would hit me, and we were supposed to get married.”  
“What!”  
“Wow, you really got hit hard, you’re normally the one reminding me of things. Anyway, it was perfect. Me as chief, with Astrid as my beautiful, strong chieftess.” Fishlegs took a second to breathe, shocked at the news. Astrid was engaged to Snotlout? And he was to be chief? It made sense with Hiccup a dragon, but it seemed so insane. But Snotlout seemed to be acting more mature now, with more leadership if how he handled the twins was any indication. But he still had one more question.  
“Snotlout, what about the chief’s son?” He needed to know, Hiccup being that night fury made sense, in a twisted way, but he needed to hear it from somebody else. Something to confirm him.  
Snotlout looked at him incredulously, “Stoick never had a son.” And that was all the confirmation he needed.


	2. Tale of Two Furies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Night Furies are born in the nest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was debating on which character vignette to post first. I guess the answer was Hiccup and Toothless because the perfect inspiration popped right out at me.

Peace was not something the Red Death’s nest was known for. Their queen was a tyrant and they were forced to raid the surrounding villages regularly. But even given that, the nest was a significantly better place to live than many other options. The Vikings that shared the archipelago were powerful, violent, and were an extremely dangerous force. So for every dragon lured into the nest by the queen's call, just as many sought refuge upon their own will. The risks and sacrifices were well worth the safety to some dragons.

Of such included some of the rarest dragons of all. A mated pair of night furies sought out the volcanic nest as a suitable place to nest to raise hatchlings. As some of the rarest and most elusive dragons in the world, they were welcomed with open wings, even given special privileges due to their status. For them, the nest gave an element of security in a world where their kind was almost extinct. Their hatchlings were vulnerable and small far longer than most species, and that was on top of their low birth rates compared to something like a common gronckle.

That was the reason the couple had decided to settle there and were now eagerly awaiting the hatching of their first clutch of eggs. The two eggs had started to shake several hours ago, signaling the imminent arrival of their two new additions. As the hours passed, the shaking got more and more intense, and cracks started to form on the surface of the eggs. The hairline cracks expanded to encompass the side of the egg and a light beating rocked the eggs from the inside. Both eggs rocked until the first egg burst. Exiting in a spray of shell and embryonic fluid was a tiny black dragon, no larger than a Terror, with a head far too large for his body and stubby wings out its back. The new parents eagerly attended their first-hatched, licking away the fluid and giving their child their first tongue bath.

But the second egg did not have the same dramatic opening as the first. The cracks formed on the surface and the rocking pounded the egg's shell, but nothing emerged. The movement started to slow, and the new parents gave each other a somber look, realizing the sad reality of what may take place. But their momentary distraction gave their new hatchling a moment of freedom, which the little dragon took to approach the egg. As the egg rocked and the cracks grew ever so slightly, the dragonette started to paw at the cracks himself. The Cracks began to grow more rapidly as the movement of the egg picked back up. Finally, in a triumphant crack, the shell burst to reveal another, slightly smaller night fury hatchling. The newborn looked up with deep emerald green eyes into the brilliant jade of his brother.

The parents watched the scene in front of them with joy and relief in their eyes. Night furies formed tight family bonds and packs as it was, but they could tell that those two would be even closer than that. The new dam proceeded to grab the newly hatched fury and give him his bath, while the sire regurgitated some fish for the hatchlings' first meal.

* * *

At the same time as this occurred, in the chief's hut on Berk, Valka Haddock died of a miscarriage, their child not making it either. The chief yelled out in grief, as the elder tried to console him saying that the child just couldn’t have lived, for no soul was inhabiting the baby’s body.

* * *

Time passed in the nest, and the hatchlings grew at a steady rate. The firstborn grew larger and stronger, while the second grew into a lighter, lankier build with a wingspan disproportionately large for his size. Now three winters old, the now-fledgling had started to grow more into their bodies, improving their flight, coordination, and coming into their personalities.

The larger sat alone on a ledge overlooking the nest from near his family’s nest. That was until a smaller black dragon dropped onto him and started gnawing on his ear nubs. The larger rolled onto his back to try to dislodge his brother but said dragon nimbly rolled along with him, avoiding being squished under his brother’s bulk. The two rolled on the volcano warmed stone to the edge, where the larger was able to snag the other by the neck scruff and dangle him over the ledge. The emerald-eyed dragon gave a chirp that was both fearful and playful at the same time which got the response of a draconic laugh out of his older sibling before he promptly pinned the younger under him where he proceeded to give an aggressive licking bath.  
After escaping the tongue assault of his brother, the younger night fury looked over the ledge into the nest. He watched the dragon on the lower levels going about their days, eating, sleeping, and a pack of miscellaneous other fledglings playing. He perked up at this and patted his brother with his tail to get his attention. He gestured to the playing group with a warble of curiosity and excitement. Despite living in a nest with hundreds of dragons, they were isolated. The only dragons of their species besides themselves were their parents, and very few dragons approached them due to their high status. The older looked over the edge and gave a dismissive ‘humph’ before turning away. The other’s ears dropped a bit as he sulked at his brother's rejection until a mischievous smirk rose on his face. He gave a scared yip as he let himself fall over the ledge. His plan worked, as his brother immediately jumped up and scanned the scene for his brother before he dove off the ledge after him.

The smaller dragon opened his wings for a glide, angling himself towards the ledge of the other fledglings, who were currently engaged in a wrestling match. It was then that the older realized the plot his sibling had set in motion but was too far in to be able to back out now. They glided down and landed on the ledge catching the attention of its current occupants. Five sets of eyes on four dragons stared at the newcomers as the night furies approached. They eyed the two warily until the smaller gave a playful growl before pouncing on, and subsequently being pinned by a red fledgling Nightmare. It wasn't long before all six dragons were engaged in an all-out war, with playful squawks and growls echoing throughout the area.

* * *

More time passes in the nest, and the six grow into good friends, even overcoming the larger furies antisocial tendencies. The strange troop of a gronckle, nadder, nightmare, zippleback, and two furies certainly drew some attention at first but quickly becomes a normal sight in the nest. At twelve winters, the fury brothers have grown more into their bodies and received their fire, but still had plenty of growing to do. It was at this time tragedy first struck the two.

The family was hunting on one of the human-free islands in the archipelago. It was rich in deer and other such large game, making it the perfect hunting spot for dragons. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones to have this idea. As their dam bit into the neck of their catch, the ground below started rumbling. The rumbling got louder and worse, but before they could take flight, a spiraling maw of teeth burst out from under the deer, and by extension, their dam. Their sire tried to warn the duo back, but the older of the two lunged at the whispering death biting into its flank as the younger fired a blast of plasma below its eye causing it to shriek in pain. It lashed out at the two, its bulbous sharp maw charging forward as its sharp serpentine body lashed out in the back. But its charge was halted as their sire bit into the attacker’s neck. The larger bite of the mature fury did much more damage than either of the juveniles, as the death cut its losses and retreated under the earth. The three rushed over to their fallen family member, she was covered in deep gashes with chunks of flesh on her stomach ripped out from spiraling teeth. She managed one more look at her family before falling limp. The younger furies nudged their limp mother with their noses while giving out high picked whimpers, imploring her to move and live, while their sire let out long pained howl mourning his lost mate.

* * *

Things changed after their dam’s death. The duo now took up their parents' job in raids. With three night furies on the attack, raids became a whole lot more successful. The smaller of the siblings was a more agile flier, using his lightweight and longer wingspan to his advantage. The larger, older brother was better in a close up fight with his large size and strength. Life fell into a routine for the next three years. They had their friends, they had their father, and their life was content.

But things changed when their nadder friend came back to the nest after a few weeks missing. And riding on her back was a human with a blond braid and an axe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was the first character story. There will be two more of these (for Astrid and Snotlout) and each one intertwines with the others.   
> So, it was a challenge to try to write a non-human's perspective and show the difference in society between human's and dragons. Countless authors have done this masterfully in the past, so let me know if it worked well and what needs improvement.  
> The lack of names was a conscious choice by me as another way to differentiate between humans and dragons, though it made writing it a bit awkward at points.  
> The mother's death scene was a hard thing to write. I was originally planning on killing off both parents, but declined at the last second.


	3. Hope and Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snotlout, the hope and heir of the Hooligan tribe.

The chief's wife was dead and along with her their prospective son. The funeral for both the baby and Valk happened the next day. For the next week, Stoick the Vast, the unstoppable, unmovable, chief of the tribe, didn’t even leave his hut. There was nothing he could have done, no help he could have given his wife to save her or their son and nothing to blame for the tragedy. He had nowhere to direct his anger, nothing to channel his grief into. For once the chief was completely and utterly powerless, a feeling that nearly broke him. The only thing that saved him from starving to death in his grief was Gobber dragging him out to save him from himself.

Only one shred of silver lines the black cloud that had fallen over Stoick's life. Spitelout, his brother, and second in command recently had a son. The baby, Snotlout, was the air to the chiefdom, ensuring a smooth succession when power needed to be handed over. But the moment Stoick laid eyes on his nephew, all he could feel was anger. Here he was giving the heirdom, his son's birthright, to his nephew. All he could think of was how much better his son would have been, but how he was never even given a chance to live. It wasn't fair! What had he done to displease the gods?

As Stoick looked at the baby Snotlout, his subconscious found its place to direct its anger.

From the moment Snotlout could walk, he was drilled in combat. Stoick was unrelenting, training the boy to fight and be the future chief. To Stoick, the boy in front of him would never be as good as his son could have been, but damn it if he wasn't going to make sure his village would have as good of a chief as he could make. Every day, for hours on end, Stoick would train the boy. And once he was old enough to understand the concepts, Stoick drilled him on tactics, strategy, warfare, and diplomacy. Stoick was relentless, nothing NSotlout did was enough, as he drove the boy mad with unreachable expectations. Through the tireless work and rigorous studies, the idea of being chief became less and less appealing. If this was what was required, did he even want the position at all? But it was his birthright, his destiny to be chief, so he pushed forward.

Snotlout progressed fast under his uncle's harsh tutelage. By the time he was ten he was a competent swordsman, able to best those years older than himself in combat. He also knew more strategy and leadership than most grown Vikings. To everyone else looking in on him, he was a prodigy, the perfect boy, the hope and heir of the Hooligan tribe. He received praise and love from all of the villagers. But little did they know of the struggles the boy faced every day.

But to everyone else in the village, he was the village golden child, he knew it, and he leveraged it. He had his group of friends and they all centered around him. He was the center of attention and he loved it. He was a leader of his friends, Ruff and Tuff were fun, FIshlegs was a bit of a dork but was nice to be around (as well as sometimes helping him with some of his studies that his uncle put him through), and then there was Astrid. Astrid was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and not only was she a sight to behold for her beauty but in combat as well. She was the next best warrior of their generation, second only to himself, and the only girl to even come close. He loved her, he wanted her more than anything. He had everything he ever wanted but Astrid was the one thing he wanted most. She always played hard to get and would shrug off any advance, but he was a model Viking, he was stubborn, and he was persistent. He did everything he could to impress her, from showing off his strength and battle prowess to his strapping good looks. He was the perfect Viking and he and everyone else knew it, he couldn’t comprehend why she was so cold to him.

When they were fifteen and started dragon training, he knew it would be there he would finally win over Astrid. Every dragon they threw at them he could fight with ease. He had trained and studied for years. His uncle had drilled him tirelessly on making sure he knew of every dragon and their weaknesses, and his weapon skill was second to none. He knew that once dragon training was over and he won the honor of killing a dragon in front of the whole village that she would finally see his greatness.

It was no surprise when after the final bout of training, that when Gobber held his hook over his head, Gothi nodded.

This was it, this was the moment to truly show his greatness. Show how much of a Viking he was. Snotlout walked into the arena, with the entire village looking inside through the metal chains that enclosed the pit. He grabbed a sword and shield from the weapon rack before moving to the center of the ring.

“I’m ready.” And with those two words, the hold that kept the cage door closed slowly was raided, the chains clinking on the winches as the one thing keeping the dragon looked away was removed. In a burst of fire and movement, the nightmare burst out of its pen. It scuttled upside down across the top of the arena and shot a blast of liquid fore that temporarily dispersed the crowd. Though once the fire extinguished, the crowd immediately filled back in, more enthralled with the show than before.

The nightmare finally looked down at the human in the middle of the ring. It slowly lowered itself onto the ground and eyed the boy carefully. It didn’t have a second to react before Snotlout charged it with a battle cry. The nightmare shot a gout of fire to deter it attacker, but he held up his shield as he continued his attack, he ducked underneath the nightmare and slashed at its wing. The nightmare screeched in pain as it lashed out with a bite, but the attack was parried with a shield to the side of the head. Dazed and disoriented, the dragon could do nothing as Snotlout ran forward with his sword outstretched, as he ran his blade deep into the nightmare's chest. It let out a last painful bellow before collapsing on the ground, bleeding profusely and barely alive. SNotlout stood over the one proud beast and looked it in the eyes. The fearful reptilian eyes looked into his own, but that moment only lasted a second until he swung his sword down onto the dragon’s neck eliciting cheers from all of the spectators. He had done it, he killed a dragon, he was a man now, a Viking, and an adult as far as the law was concerned. And he was sure his performance had finally impressed the girl of his dreams.

It was only a year later that he was betrothed to Astrid Hofferson and it was the best day of his life. But that happiness was a fleeting high that didn’t last long before she disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was Snotlout's story, next up we have Astrid's perspective on all this, and we'll finally tie together all of the previous chapters.  
> I had the least planned out for this chapter, so it took a bit longer to write than normal, but I hope it turned out well anyway.


	4. Girl of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From perpetual second best to dragon queen.

Just a few months after the death of the chief's wife and son, the Hofferson family had a child early that spring. After a pregnancy with very few complications, they gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. She was a strong, healthy, and beautiful baby. The pregnancy and birth went smoothly, and the baby, whom they named Astrid, was a promising new addition to the family.

The girl exemplified the Viking spirit from a young age. She was stubborn, a fighter, competitive, and had a tab bit of a temper. All were traits of a good Viking, and she appeared to be a promising shieldmaiden. As she grew up, those ideas were cemented even further. She quickly became a capable warrior able to best most her age, with the notable expedition of Snotlout. She grew a rivalry with the boy, and his constant flirting attempts only infuriated her more. She wanted nothing more than to beat him, to be the better warrior, to be seen in the same light as him. She wasn't looked upon badly, not by any measure, but she could feel it in their stares. That she wasn't good enough, she wanted the best. She needed to beat Snotlout. Second best wasn't good enough.

When they turned fifteen, they started dragon training. Astrid trained hard, honing her skills to a razor's edge. But no matter what she did, Snotlout won. And his incessant flirting only drove her anger deeper, pumping the bellows on the flame that was her rage and hatred. The moment where Gothi chose him was the worst, most shameful moment of her life. And watching him kill the nightmare was even worse. She would have rather been in an Outcast prison cell than watch that fight. And hearing the crowds cheer his name was like acid to her ears. Things couldn’t possibly get worse…

Astrid hurled her axe into the nearest tree, screaming with unbridled rage. Rage at Snotlout, at the village, at her parents, at everything. It was a year after dragon training, and she was now considered an adult in the eyes of the village. As great as that sounded, it a hatchet coated with honey. If she thought dragon training was bad, this was worse. Infinitely worse. Her parents had accepted… a PROPOSAL for her. A proposal from SNOTLOUT! She couldn't take it. She couldn't bear it. And as she threw her axe again, she made no move to go retrieve it. She was spent and exhausted. And for one, the great Astrid Hofferson cried. She felt the full weight of what had happened. Her parents betrayed her, sold her like a yak to someone so vile. The village went along with it and upheld it, and Snotlout. He caused it all. The tribal heir, the future chief, the one who would one day rule the village. She had to get out, but she had nowhere to go. No connection with any other island, nowhere to run. She was trapped.

As she sat there in the forest, she heard a loud reptilian moaning. Astrid jumped to her feet, and with the turned reaction of a trained fighter, grabbed and held her axe at the ready as she approached the noise. There, laying on the ground, was a nadder tied up in a net, probably caught there from last night's raid. And at that moment, from a dark corner of her mind, she saw her escape. An escape to Valhalla and die a warrior's death against the dragon. And with her plan in mind, she bends down and started untangling the ropes. The nadder perked its head up in shock as it felt the bindings over its wings loosening. Once the final piece of netting was removed the nadder jumped to its feet as Astrid jumped back. But to Astrid's surprise, the nadder didn't attack, it merely looked at her with a keen eye, an eye too intelligent for a mere beast. The two stared each other down as neither made a move.

The nadder could smell the sadness of the girl, smell the saltwater from her eyes, and see the redness in them. The girl that had just freed her from nearly certain doom. She couldn't kill this girl, not after that. And despite not knowing her situation, felt sorry for her and whatever caused her to feel the way she did. The nadder took a step forward to inspect the girl. The human flinched but didn't make any move to stop her. Astrid couldn't comprehend what was happening. The dragon wasn't attacking, it was inspecting her, and was that sympathy she saw in the dragon's eye? It was impossible, against everything she ever knew. But the look in those eyes, it was more comforting than any back in the village. True sympathy for whatever her plight was despite not knowing it. And in an act completely against everything she knew, she blazed yet uncharted ground and dropped her axe to the side. With that, an invisible barrier seemed to break, as the dragon took up a more relaxed posture as it inspected the girl. As she saw the beautiful creature bobbing around her, Astrid was in awe. She slowly reached out her hand to the dragon's scales and her hand was met by the dragon's forehead. Everything they knew about dragons was wrong.

Weeks passed as the two continued to meet up together. But in that time, the wedding between her and Snotlout was planned, dowries paid, and excitement growing. Astrid knew she had to escape. Stormfly, as Astrid had named the nadder, had eventually insisted on taking Astrid flying. And after a rather terrifying first run, she fell in love with the sky. In the air, she felt free, alone with her best friend. And as the wedding neared, she knew hat she had to do.

“Let’s go, Stormfly. Take me to your home.” Anywhere was better than here. Even the dragon's nest itself. Stormfly was hesitant, fearing the queen's reaction to a human in her presence. But Astrid was so different from other humans. She could feel it, on some nebulous level, Astrid was meant to be with dragons, and that it would work out for the best. So as Stormfly toom off from Berk one last time, Astrid only took one look back at her former home.

Stormfly flew through a maze of sea stacks. Astrid herself could only see a few feet in front of her thanks to the heavy fog in her face as the whipped and weaved through the treacherous terrain. But as the fog cleared, Astrid saw a sight now human had ever seen before: the dragons nest. The huge volcano rose from the fog, and some of the caves that led inside held an eerie red glow as they reflected the lave pool below. Strongly flew into one of the higher cave. The tunnel was dark, but as they opened up into the volcanoes center, Astrid was amazed in front of her were thousands of dragons, all sitting on ledges that lined the walls, surrounding a central pity shrouded by a haze of fog. As Stormfly landed, two black blurs darted towards their landing spot. Astrid dismounted, only to receive growls from the to unidentified black dragons in front of her. Before Astrid had a chance to react, her nadder squawked out something to the two as they looked up to her in a confused manner. More growls and squawks were exchanged between the trio before the smaller of the two black ones approached her. The dragon was pitch black with emerald eyes that were large and curious. She held out her hand as the dragon sniffed it and rubbed his snout over it. She laughed as she scratched the dragon, which immediately began purring like an overgrown kitten. Her amusement only heightened as the larger of the two used his snout to try to gesture for scratches of his own as the smaller one gave out a playful growl. 

The two dragons, who she assumed were siblings, started to wrestle right in front of her. The larger pinned the smaller one down as it started to nip at its neck. That was until the smaller one-shot a small blast of fire into its open mouth, dazing it long enough for the smaller to escape and give what sounded like the dragon equivalent of a laugh. But Astrid couldn't help but notice that fire, it was purple and came out in a ball, not a stream like every other dragon. And there was their midnight black coloring and the fact there only seemed to be two of them. She gasped as she realized what they were. In front of her were knight furies, the unholy offspring of lightning and death themselves, and they were playing like a pair of puppies. As she looked over the two dragons in front of her, she thought about what to call them. They needed names befitting of the fearsome dragons they were. And as she recalled their prior matched, she came up with it. 

“Fire and Fang,” she said to herself as she looked from the smaller to the larger night fury.

Though their nice little rendezvous was short-lived as dusk fell and dragons returned to the nest. Dragons returned in droves with prey in their talons and depositing it into the pit below. Astrid watched dumbfounded, they weren’t eating any of it? Why were they dumping their food in a hole? That was until she heard it.

She watched a lone gronckle drop a single fish, one not even large enough to be a human meal, into the pit only to be met with a roar that shook the earth itself. And rising from the smoke was the largest head she had ever seen which snapped the gronckle up like a snack. _That_ was why they raided, they feared it, or were controlled by it, or something along those lines. It was that tyrant who ruled this nest. 

Her head didn’t recede into the fog, instead, it started sniffing and eventually turned its eyes towards Astrid. It could detect the human in its domain and let out a growl of indignation. A pitiful nadder started to desperately explain its reasoning for bringing a human into its domain and not immediately giving it to her as food. The queen let out a roar silencing the dissenter as she readied her head to lunge and eat the insignificant pests that bothered her. But as her headshot forward, she was met with empty air as the girl mounted the nadder and shot off. But not only did they flee, the nadder shot a stream of white-hot fire at her eye as they passed causing the queen to cry out. The nadder flew out of the nest, and in her range followed in an attempt to kill the rebellious dragon and human duo.

Astrid looked behind her to see a cloud of dragons escape the mountain as the red death burst out into the open. Now Astrid could see how truly huge the beast was. Nearly the size of a mountain itself covered in rocky scales across its entire body and a tail tipped with a giant mace, she realized her folly. There was no way they could beat this thing, but they had released it, it was chasing them and now they had to deal with it. 

The Red Death let out a gout of flame as rider and dragon narrowly missed being turned to ashes. Astrid signaled to fly up and over the monster to stay out of the fire's range, and as it prepared the next blast the soft tissue of her tongue and mouth pierced with spines from high in the air. The red death roared once more as its massive wings unfolded, the membrane looking like ancient parchment, and flapped them with the force of a gale ascending into the air. The Red Death rose from the ground with each massive thrust of its wings coming ever closer to Astrid and Stormfly. The dragon built up the gas in its throat as it prepared to scorch its annoyances alive as they dashed away in a futile attempt to get out of the flames range. 

Watching from the air were two black silhouettes against the sky. They watched as their nadder friend and new human friend matched up against the tyrant. The writing was on the wall, their friends would die if nothing intervened. The two looked to each other deciding without any conversation required as they both made their dive. Twin screeches pierced the sky, building in intensity as the two veered off in different directions. Just as the queen was about to blast her fire, plasmablasts hit each side of her skull throwing her off mid-flight. Astrid looked back just in time and signaled Stormfly to take the opening for a strike. Stormfly dive-bombed at the Red Death releasing fire at its maw and igniting the un-combusted gas within its throat. And with that final blast within its own mouth, the dragon rolled in mid-air crashing back down from the sky onto the rocky beach below. 

As Stormfly passed over the beast, Astrid jumped off her back and landed on the tyrants head. It was still alive but dazed and sporting cuts on its wing membrane from its long fall. The beast looked up at her with its six eyes as she stood on its nose, axe at the ready, not that it would do much if the beast was able to get up. The dragons watched the scene in awe. Their fearsome queen, bested and dominated by a human who now stood atop its nose. The first dragons gave calls of triumph, their tyrant alpha was dethroned. More followed suit before descending into bows.

Astrid watched as around her dragons bowed down, not to the queen who lay under her heel, but her. The dragons were bowing to her. For all the time she put into gaining the respect of Berk they still didn’t value her as a warrior or anything more than a woman to be wedded off to a man. But the dragons? They were revering and her giving her respect and acceptance that she only dreamed about. She could just imagine the praise Berk would have given her if she had won dragon training, but even that did not compare to this. 

As Stormfly landed beside her, the Red Death moaned and reminded her that this thing still was indeed alive. As Stormfly looked at her, as if waiting to see what she did next, and to all the dragons that were looking at her with the awed respect of a leader, she knew how to deal with the problem under her feet. 

“Tell them that they can take care of this, Stormfly,” she said with a gesture to the Red Death, “They’ve suffered enough under this thing, let them have their retribution.” And as Astrid mounted up, Stormfly let out a roar, a squawk, and a series of chirps. And with that, the dragon hordes descended on the red death with a rain of claws fire and teeth. The red death was mighty, but even its weakened state couldn't stop the thousands of dragons digging into every part of its body as they swarmed it like flies on a fresh piece of meat.

The next issue she knew she needed to face was that of the Vikings who she once called herself a part of. She knew they could never make peace with dragons and would never believe a word she said. The only option was to drive them away or eradicate them, whichever came first. She made that decision with a heavy heart but knew it had to be done. And after the ways they slighted her and how they hunted and treated the dragons, her new people, for hundreds of years the decision was clear.

For her whole life second best was all she was able to get. She fought long and hard for the love and respect of her people. But now as she looked down at her old home from a bird's eye view, she realized just how insignificant they were. And with a hand signal, the dragons descended starting Astrid's first raid. More deadly and devastating than any the Red Death ever prepared. 

And so began Astrid’s reign of fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a long time in comparison to my others. I had the first part of the chapter done the night after I posted 'Hope and Heir', and it totaled 1500 words alone. I could have easily posted that as its own chapter and split it into part one and two. But my main snag was the red death, and what to do with it. the way I see it, that fight is impossible to win with just a nadder and rider. The only reason that it was killed in the movie was Hiccups tactics and the long range fire of a night fury. So I couldn't just have Hiccup and Toothless (who Astrid gave the names of Fire and Fang) do the fight but I knew they had to be involved somehow for the fight to be a victory. I think this fight, while definitely not the best, was satisfactory enough. 
> 
> Next chapter we go back to modern times where poor old Fishlegs has to fix this mess.


	5. Wake Up Call

Helping to repair things on Berk was not uncommon, living alongside fire-breathing reptiles has its downsides, but the type of damage he saw was completely out of the realm he had ever seen. Even the Red Death’s raids were less destructive, it seemed like obvious storehouses were directly targeted, as well as the farms, and apparently the forge was on its tenth rebuild. It was a wonder the village was even alive at all after years of this, and it all reeked of Astrid’s cutthroat battle sense, but why? What had made Astrid turn so dramatically against Berk? How did she even learn to train Stormfly for Thor’s sake? Hiccup was the first one to discover it and he’s a dragon! Those questions, as well as theoretical answers, ran through his mind as he worked on the repetitive task of putting up new shingles on a house. 

Once he climbed down his ladder, ending the mind-numbing monotony, lunch had already begun. At least that was familiar, the same scents of fresh bread and boar stew wafted into his nose. He grabbed his plate and sat alone at a corner table that was so dusty that it looked like it hadn't been touched in years (now that he thought about it, wasn’t this the table Hiccup always used to sit at?). His silent contemplation was interrupted by the very not quietness of two Thorston twins. Fishlegs sighed, at least they didn’t change at all. The aforementioned twins soon joined him as well as Snotlout with a friendly greeting.

“Why are you sitting all the way back here? Not nervous about tomorrow, are ya?” Snotlout asked in between mouthfuls of food. 

“Tomorrow, what’s tomorrow?” Oh no, whatever it was couldn’t be good. The timeline was all screwed up, what other horrendous things happened here?

“Did you hit your head or something? You’re not quite on your game, Fishface. It’s the first day of dragon training, duh.”

“And that means…” Fishlesg asked with genuine confusion. What was so special about dragon training?

“Your teaching it!” The exclamation caught Fishlegs by surprise. He was teaching dragon training, as in, training to kill dragons! No no no, he couldn't do that. He could not, not at all.

“Eh he, about that, I don’t know if I can do it…”

“Oh, shut up, Fish, of course, you can. You know more about those beasts than the rest of the island combined.” Wow, Snotlout complementing him maybe the weirdest part about all of this. “Besides, you’ve been rambling about that curriculum you wrote down for days now, you just have the jitters. Anyway, gotta go, see ya.” And without another word, Snotlout got up and left. 

At least Snotlout was right about that curriculum. In front of him on his desk lay a whole set of notes about what to teach, what days to teach, and how to teach it. Oh boy, was he in for a nightmare.

  
  


With a sigh, Astrid took off her identity concealing mask. Raids on other tribes were easy, attacks on the dragon hunters were more difficult because they were far more prepared for her. But raids on Berk were always special, they came with a maddening mixture of rage, guilt, and sometimes even a small sense of longing. But one look at the dragons around her, _her_ dragons, her flock, and that guilt went away. This was for them. She needed to drive off the Vikings for them, to protect what she cared about. With that in mind, Berk raids had gotten easier over the years. 

That was until tonight. Nobody knew who she was. Nobody would believe Astrid Hofferson would turn on Berk, they all thought she died. That was until Fishlegs had called her name, the name she hadn’t heard in years. And that tone, it wasn’t typical Viking anger or betrayal, and it also wasn’t the colder, more analytical fighting that she had come to see Fishlegs develop. No, his voice was full of fear, familiarity, and worry. Almost as if they were friends, a laughable thought. They weren’t even friends when she was on Berk, she didn’t really have any to begin with. And how he had pleaded for her to stop fighting Snotlout. If somebody had a chance to take her out, they would. 

It was confusing, and if there was one thing she hated, it was uncertainty. So she shoved the thoughts deep into the back of her mind. Besides, he was dead now. She had called Fire and Fang on him, night furies, they never missed and nobody could survive one of their blasts. Speaking of those two rascals, she looked to her right at the two dark streaks contrasting the rising dawn. 

He couldn’t get that human out of his head. The chubby human who wasn’t fighting. He had seen that human fight before, he was not bad, but not as lethal as the curly-horned one or even their human-friend. But he was different tonight. When she had asked him to kill the chubby one he had initially compiled, but when he looked into its eyes, he saw something strange. There was fear, worry, familiarity, and he couldn’t describe it, but an uncanny sense of knowing as if he was looking deep into his soul-fire. So much to the annoyance of his brother, he had let it go.

Said brother, ‘Fang’ as their human friend called him, was watching him worriedly. He didn’t understand why his brother released the human. It was reckless and dangerous and could’ve gotten his precious little brother hurt. But he was prepared to retaliate if the human as so much as bared his teeth at his brother so he let it happen.

Fishlegs approached the ring early the next morning before any of his ‘pupils’ arrived. The first lesson was supposed to be on the gronckle, but before he set a bunch of rowdy teenagers onto the poor unfortunate dragons he needed to see if he recognized any of the dragons. It was a longshot and unlikely, but he needed to know if Meatlug was still locked up here. So he approached the cage and peeked in the feeding slot. Inside was a gronckle, but not Meatlug. It was a male and had a blue-green hide. The same went for the others, none of the riders' dragons were present. He didn't want to think about what may have happened to them. The only one he knew of was Stormfly, so that meant that the other dragons must be alive and out there somewhere, so that was good news at least.

Watching the new trainees gave Fishlegs a blast of nostalgia in the worst way possible. He was used to teaching kids, but what he taught was about dragons and Berks’s history, not combat and dragon killing. It was barbaric, and how had he not been able to see that before as a teenager? But the group in the ring did remind Fishlegs a bit of the gang, and that reminded him of the bitter reality that there was no gang, everyone was fighting and the war was still happening. If only he had the riders, they could solve this together. 

And that’s exactly what he was going to do, he realized. He needed to bring them all together. The only way for them to fix this mess was together. It was the only way he could see a solution. They had started this together, and they would end it together. He would do it, or die trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, sorry for the long wait, and how it was shorter than the last chapter, but I hope it was enjoyable nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> So that was the first chapter of my first work posted on this site, and definitely not the last. I hope it was enjoyable. Please leave your criticism in the comments. Literally any criticism is welcome.  
> Sorry about any grammatical errors, I wrote this at 2 am.  
> A note on how the wishes work: the wishes in this are based on the story "The Monkey's Paw", obviously. But I find that when writers try to make wishes have downsides, they just tack on a side effect that has nothing to do with the original wish. In the original, the negatives of the wish came from how the wish came to be and was a natural consequence. Do you want money? Your son dies at work and the money his company pays in compensation is the exact amount you wished for.  
> In this case, the wishes came into effect in their history, changing their timeline. The next few chapters will be character vignettes describing each of their *new* life stories.  
> 


End file.
